the goat

i am a simple goat. i live on the back of a pick-up truck. the old man tied me here with a 3 ft. rope. am i happy?

he don't give a fuck. hey goat!

i'm gonna beat your head in with the hickory stick!

sometimes he uses his fists-a. he's filled with anger and filled with rage

and tells me i smell like piss-a. his drink

jimmy beam. his chaser

a beer. after that

various alchohols. that's when the beatings get so severe

i sleep

i pray he falls. but don't feel sorry for me. things weren't always this bad. why when i was a young talking goat

the old man was just like my dad. i come from the hills of europe. that's where i met the old man. he was lost in the woods

i gave him directions

he gave me a tuna can. then he stopped in his tracks and he said

hey goat!

would you like to live with me?

i got a house with a pick-up truck

in a place across d.c.-a. i said

sure why not? i got no family. you seem like a nice guy."